


Ebb and Flood

by Nahara



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Always Female Derek, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Human Derek Hale, Jeep Sex, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Nipple Play, POV Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:52:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4481687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nahara/pseuds/Nahara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yet by far the best thing about these boobs are that they’re attached to Dara Hale. Dara, who he’s been infatuated with since him and his dad moved to sleepy Beacon Hills after his mom’s death. Older and beautiful, she was even more stunning than Lydia - not that Stiles would ever tell either Lydia or Dara this. He liked his balls attached to his body, thanks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ebb and Flood

Stiles isn’t sure how he ended up here, with a beautiful, dangerous older girl straddling his hips in her underwear and now, miraculously, taking off her tank top for him. He must have done something right for once, because that’s exactly where he is and he’s more turned on than he’s ever been before in his life, more even than all the times when he imagined this exact scenario over and over in his head, hand down his lacrosse shorts. This is so much better.

Jesus Christ - _boobs_. Boobs are pretty freakin amazing, aren’t they? 

Suddenly they’re all he can look at. They’re not huge, but big enough to have a little weight and shape, which suits Stiles just fine thanks. These boobs are perfect and pert, and the nipples are actually hardening under his gaze - or maybe it’s a little chilly in the car. Whatever. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen and he wants to lick them, hold the nub between his teeth and nibble them, just a little.

Yet by far the best thing about these boobs are that they’re attached to Dara Hale. Dara who he’s been infatuated with since him and his dad moved to sleepy Beacon Hills after his mom’s death. Older and beautiful, she was even more stunning than Lydia - not that Stiles would ever tell either Lydia or Dara this. He liked his balls attached to his body, thanks. 

Dara was always stunning, even when they were kids, and Stiles always had a massive crush on her. But he fell in love when she came back from her sophomore year at Caltech, black hair shorn short, a ubiquitous leather jacket and smelling like a beguiling mix of engine oil and lilies. She’d always looked dangerous like brewing thunderclouds, but now there was something lethal and fragile about her, like lightning. Stiles wanted to stand in her storm.

Not that he’ll say this out loud, he knows she wouldn’t like or appreciate the sentimentality. But in his head, where he can think what he wants, Stiles knows that this isn’t just a quick fuck in his Jeep. Not for him. To Stiles this is a culmination of years of watching, admiring and hoping. Now it was his turn to come back from his sophomore year at Brown and be seen in a new light. 

“Stiles, for Christ’s sake,” Dara whispers viciously, irritated at his gaping. She surges forward, dropping her head to kiss him hot and dirty. Tongue, spit, the taste of salt. He can feel her hard nipples rubbing into him through his thin shirt and groans. Stiles skims his finger against her exposed waist for a moment before holding tighter, hard enough to pull her away from him a little. Dara scowls and looks ready to say something sharp and unkind.

Before she can call him an idiot, or a spaz, or give up on letting him have sex with her completely, Stiles darts forward to capture her left nipple in his mouth.

“Fuck,” she says, breathy and surprised. Her head tips back, showing off her pretty neck. Her left breast moves under Stiles’ lips, up and down with her erratic, aroused breathing. He sucks hard, lips puckered around the soft, rigid flesh. Stiles can’t help but shiver in delight as he runs a tongue round and round the nub of her nipple.

Stiles wants to tell Dara that he’s intoxicated, completely drunk on her, but supposes that she’s figured it out already. Dara’s sitting down in his lap, grinding on the erection trapped in his pants. He pulls away long enough to groan at the pressure. Stiles moves to Dara’s other nipple, tonguing the darker circle of her areola and moving his hands under her bust to push them up even further into his mouth. She’s really warm where her breast was touching her chest, and she startles a little at Stiles’ cold fingers. He mumbled an apology into her cleavage, then kisses and licks his way across her chest. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers against her neck, one breast in each of his hands, massaging and swiping at her spit-wet nipples with his thumbs. Dara sucks in a breath and pushes down against Stiles’ lap again.

“Shut up, shut up,” Dara demands with an impatient shake of her head. “We came here to cash in your V-card.”

They did? This is news to Stiles.

He’s about to tell her that it had actually already been taken care of thanks, but he’s distracted by her hands popping the button on his jeans. He hits his head against the headrest, breathing erratically as he watches from half-closed eyes as she unzips him and slides a warm, strong hand down his boxer-briefs. 

“Shit! _Shit_.” He bucks into her hand, shocked at the pleasure that zips through his body. She’s barely touched him and already he’s lost. 

Stiles grabs handfuls of her ass, squeezing and holding her as she pushes down the elastic of his underwear to expose his dick and his balls. He groans again, unable to tear his eyes away from where her hand is beginning to stroking him. It feels incredible - better than his own hand and even better than the girl he’d lost his cherry to. She’d been nice, but honestly Stiles doesn’t want nice. He wants the way Dara pushes him and takes and _keeps_ taking. Stiles will give her anything she wants.

“Condom,” Dara says shortly as she reaches into the driver's footwell to retrieve her discarded black jeans. There’s a condom in the pocket, as well as a foil of lube. Fuck, Dara had come prepared. Stiles’ dick bobs a little at the thought, the head sliding against Dara’s toned stomach and leaving an obscene trail of pre-ejaculate. He has a burning need to just lick it all off her, but the way they’re sitting in the passenger’s seat of his Jeep means he’d have to bend himself in half to manage it. Besides, he has another idea.

Carefully, as Dara is busy unwrapping the condom, Stiles, slips two fingers into her underwear, gently probing the hot wet folds of her. Dara stops abruptly, breath hitching and body gone completely still. Stiles has a moment to freak out, horrified he's done something Dara doesn't like or want from him. But a moment later Dara is shifting her hips a little and his fingers sink deeper. She's so wet; Stiles didn't know women could get this wet. And it's not just any woman, it's Dara who's rocking into his fingers and biting her lip like she's trying not to shout.

"Get moving," she demands in a harsh breathy voice. "You can find my clit, you don't need a fucking roadmap, do you Stilinski?"

"Oh my god,” Stiles breathes. He doesn't need to be told twice. He spits on his fingers before moving his thumb to the nub of her clit and rubbing it gently, little circles, round and round. 

Dara is making these amazing little noises, barely louder than a breath, but they go straight to Stiles’ groin. He thinks he’s going to explode.

“This isn’t my first time,” Stiles feels it’s important for her to know. “I’m not a virgin.” Dara looks away, long dark lashes fanning her cheeks as she takes a shuddering breath. Stiles want to kiss her closed eyelids as a surge of overwhelming affection and protectiveness rises like a tide inside his chest. He’s buzzing with the effort of keeping afloat in the sudden screaming realisation that he in so fucking in love with this mean, dangerous, broken woman. 

“Well,” Dara says at last, tone carefully matter of fact, “I am. So.”

Stiles’ heart stops.

“What?”

She shakes her head, angling a murderous look in his direction, dark eyebrows signalling his doom. Dara makes quick work of the condom Stiles had all but forgotten, rolling it down his hard, flushed dick. Stiles loves the touch of her but the fleetingness is agony. He wants all of her, everywhere, now.

“I’m your first?” he asks as she raises herself awkwardly onto her knees, pulling her underwear aside so that she can line them up. Stiles can’t believe it; she seems so knowing, so jaded.

“My first guy,” she says, dark hair in her eyes.

Stiles’ brain short circuits. Dara just snorts.

“Stop imagining it, Stilinski.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Are you gay?”

“Does it matter? Right now?”

“Shit, Dara. What am I to you? An experiment? Some curiosity?” He doesn’t mean to make this so personal, not when he can see her bare chest and the soft, downy hair on her arms. He doesn’t want to be the one that clings and obsesses at someone who isn’t interested, someone who’d regret touching him and letting him touch her. Stiles doesn’t want to be an unpleasant memory. Despite what Jackson says, he does have some self respect. 

“You’re not a question, Stiles,” Dara says angrily, hazel eyes suddenly brewing a grey-green tempest. “You’re the fucking answer.”

As she says it, she holds herself open and slides down real slow, right over his waiting dick. Stiles chokes on air, tipping back and hitting his head on the headrest again. His mouth is open, panting at the sudden unimaginable heat and tightness. Hips begin to jerk, pushing himself deeper and causing Dara to suck in a surprised breath.

Before he can apologise, Dara has seated herself in his lap and the cold tip of her nose is touching his temple, blowing soft huffs of air across his feverish skin.

“I’ve never been interested in guys, but girls were okay,” she whispers, lifting her hips just a little before sinking down again. Stiles groans, leaning forward to breathe a kiss into her neck. “I thought I was a lesbian, but after the disaster of Kate and Jennifer I thought maybe I got it wrong, maybe I don’t really like anybody, not emotionally. Except, that couldn’t be true. Because there was you.”

She’s rising higher and sinking faster, building a momentum that Stiles tries to match even in the awkward, cramped space of the Jeep. He feels like he’s on fire, body shaking and sweating.

“I think I loved you since we were children, I think I didn’t know what I liked because I only ever really liked you. I just had to wait for you to grow up to notice.”

“You love me,” Stiles says, rolling the statement around on his tongue and marvelling at the weight of it, the importance. “Dara Hale loves me.”

“Dara Hale will kill you if you don’t _move_ ,” she says pissily, but doesn’t refute Stiles in any way. It makes Stiles laugh. 

He laughs the whole way through, part joy part ecstasy. He meets Dara half way as they both thrust, meeting and parting, ebb and flood. The Jeep is rocking at their frantic rhythm and the space between them is filled with panting and the wet, slick sound of Stiles sliding in and out. Stiles guides the process by keeping his hands firm on Dara’s hips, loving the power of them beneath his fingers. He’s always been turned on by her strength.

She seems so close but like she just doesn’t quite know how to let go. Stiles smiles at her, beams his love right up into her face, causing her to blush and look away. He removes a hand from her left hip and goes back to her clit, using some of the excess lube to slick his index and middle finger. He captures her slightly swollen nub between the blades of his two fingers and rubs them together gently.

Dara throws her head back and slaps both her hands against the roof on the Jeep, like she’s trying to hold on, or trying to claw her way out. The sound of her climaxing is loud and more painful than joyful, but Stiles gets it. Dara’s been holding this in for years, waiting and not knowing why it never felt as it should. He continues to thrust deep and kisses her sloppily across the chest. He’ll never, ever get tired of her boobs.

His own orgasm hits a moment later and he cries out, a breathy whining laugh which turns into a muttered _fuck_. The feeling so intense Stiles can feel his toes curling his his shoes and his stomach muscles clenching so hard he’s probably going to be sore tomorrow. His dick pulses into the condom and his thrusting grows erratic.Dara has gone lethargic above him, limbs looking like they’ve grown heavy, head lolling a bit on her neck. She pitches forward, dipping her face into his sweaty neck but doesn’t seem to care.

“I love you too, you know?” Stiles whispers when he has his breath back. He’s still inside of Dara and it’s nice for now, the heat still so tantalising. He’ll need to move at some point to get the used condom off his dick before it gets uncomfortable. A snort interrupts his thoughts. Dara rocks her head back and forth just a little, like a disagreement, forehead against his neck.

“Shut up,” she whispers back. Stiles smiles. She sounds more sleepy than serious.

“Just figured you should know,” he continues, ignoring her request, “since we’re confessing and all.”

Another sigh. Dara lifts up her head to glare at him and Stiles tips a smile into her face - he can see right through the façade now, deep into her. Somewhere behind the danger and lightning is something small and beautiful and fragile, and its blossoming like the sun’s come out. 

Grinning wider, Stiles leans up and kisses her gently on the end of her nose. 

The resulting incredulous look is hilarious and he laughs and laughs, even when she punches him on the shoulder and calls him an asshole.

Stiles will take that without a fight. He _is_ an asshole, and Dara Hale loves him.


End file.
